Red As A Rose
by moonandstars1989
Summary: Living with the Winchesters was never going to be easy, especially for a three-hundred-and-something-year-old vampire. But immortality gets boring. Rosalie D'Angelo is looking for some fun. Two hunters, an angel and a blood-sucking monster equals a whole lot of mayhem. Let's hope not too many people get hurt - THREE PART SHORT STORY
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So here's the first instalment of a three part short story I've been working on. It's set around season 10. No Mark of Cain, so I guess, a little AU.**

 **The mythology of the OC is taken from the TV show The Vampire Diaries. I don't own anything.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

The moment I heard the bunker door shut I materialised in an instant in front of the hunter, grabbing the rucksack he'd already slung off his shoulder.

"Geez, don't do that!" he snapped at me. I could hear his racing heart thudding against his rib cage and I shot him a smirk, ripping open the ruck sack and pulling out a blood bag. I grimaced at the cold temperature, my tongue itching to taste something warmer. Preferably thirty-seven degrees... "I couldn't get as many as last time." There seemed to be an apologetic edge to his voice, but I let it roll over me as I ripped the corner of the bag open and started to sip on the glorious crimson substance I craved every waking hour.

"Well maybe next time I'll make the blood run," I suggested after swallowing down several mouthfuls. He rolled his eyes at me. I knew he'd never agree.

"You know how I feel about compulsion," he reminded me, referring to my neat ability to make someone do whatever I wanted. Sometimes I wished morals had a physical substance. That way I might've been able to surgically remove his.

"And you know how I feel about O-positive," I shot back, shaking the blood bag at him. "But we can't always get what we want, kiddo." His eyes narrowed at me. He was far from a kid, but compared to my old age, he was still brand new. Plus, I knew the belittling term would annoy him which always made my day moderately better. The hunter always made sure he stole that particular type of blood, the most common type, as if to redeem himself somewhat from stealing from a hospital. It didn't taste bad, but it was nothing like the B-negative I preferred.

"Just be glad I got it in the first place," the hunter said, frowning grimly at the way my eyes flooded red as I gorged myself on the blood. My supply had run out a day or two ago and I'd been climbing the walls, resisting the urge to ask Sam or his brother if I could tap a vein, knowing it would've ended badly. "Dean would've brought you road kill." I swallowed thickly, the thought causing bile to rise in my throat. I suddenly wasn't hungry any more.

"That's true," I said, tilting my head at him as I swung the bag onto one shoulder and pressed the empty blood bag to the hunter's chest. "Thanks, Sammy," I said with a sarcastic smile, watching as he fumbled with the empty blood bag, trying not to let any of the crimson liquid get on his shirt.

"It's Sam," he said, clearly already irritated by me and it was still early in the morning.

"Whatever," I replied flippantly, using my rapid speed to get to the kitchen and load the remaining bags of delicious goodness into the fridge.

My rocky friendship with Sam Winchester was certainly not one to be jealous of. I don't think I'd even call it a friendship. I'd never cared much for humans, seeing them merely as warm bodies waiting to have their necks ripped open, not to mention the fact that Sam was a hunter. That alone told me that I was highly stupid to even converse with him, let alone breathe the same air as the man twenty-four hours a day.

But there was _something_ about him that I liked. No. That was too strong a word. There was something about him that I didn't hate. It was probably the fact that he felt like he owed me which made me feel like I could live in close quarters with him without worrying he'd stake me in my sleep. _I_ had been the one to single handily save his ass from a nest of vampires. Of course, it'd been unintentional at first. I'd gone into that nest with the sole purpose of slaughtering everything inside, not realising there was a pair of hunters already there to complicate things. Needless to say, I'd chopped the heads off of every single pathetic vampire groupie in the place before one could chomp down on poor Sammy's neck.

The hunter had proceeded to stop his older brother from decapitating me after all was said and done. That had made me chuckle. There was no way Dean Winchester could've caused _me_ any damage with the pathetic machete he'd wielded that night. I was far too old. It would take someone with supernatural strength to have enough power to lop my head off.

I liked to think of myself as part of the superior vampire species. I was descended from the Original Family, not some crappy alpha vampire claiming to be the king of all. The two species had been feuding for as long as anyone could remember, which for a vampire, was a long time. The hatred my species had for who we regarded as second class citizens mainly stemmed from their lack of power. They weren't pure vampires like we were. They were weaker, not as fast and most importantly, they didn't possess the useful little ability of compulsion. This meant they were sloppy when it came to feeding and drew attention to themselves, highlighting our existence like a sore thumb. They were reckless, conspicuous and slapdash when it came to disposing of their victims.

I hated them.

The Winchesters, on the other hand, I hadn't been able to bring myself to kill when I'd discovered them in the old barn. Sam had been taken and his older brother, Dean, was busy untying him as I hacked off the last of the vampire's heads right in front of them. The younger Winchester was bleeding at the time and I hadn't been able to stop my fangs from sliding down as hunger surged through my veins.

Dean had lunged for his machete and I would've snapped his neck in an instant had it not been for the stench of vervain that filled my nostrils and burned my windpipe like acid. The damn vampires had been burning it for protection, knowing that it was toxic to my species. As I crumpled to my hands and knees, grasping at my throat, Sam had been the one to stop his brother. Although he wouldn't've been strong enough to take off my head, it wouldn't've taken long for the hunter to realise that a wooden stake would do the job.

 _"_ _Stop!"_ Sam had yelled to his brother as he rounded on me. _"_ _Dean, wait. Don't kill her."_

 _"_ _She's a vampire, Sam!"_ _No shit Sherlock_ I remembered thinking. I didn't say it though. My lungs were filled with a thick fog of vervain. All I could do was cough as I clawed at my neck.

 _"_ _She helped us, Dean,"_ Sam had insisted. _"_ _She killed the others."_

Dean had reluctantly stood down at Sam's request and after putting up an impressive fight, he'd finally agreed to bring me to the bunker to recover.

That brought me to where I was today, Rosalie D'Angelo, a three hundred and something year old vampire stood in the kitchen of the Men of Letter's bunker roughly six weeks later. It wasn't out of choice that I had stayed this long. Dean had annoyingly slipped my daylight ring off my finger at one point or another, meaning that if I set foot outside the bunker during the day, I was toast. Literally. Of course, I could leave during the night, but daylight rings didn't grow on trees. I was lucky to get my hands on one in the first place. I'd met plenty of other vampires of my kind that confined themselves to the shadows when the sun was up. I couldn't leave the bunker without it. I'd be far too vulnerable on the outside.

After finishing loading all of my new blood bags into the fridge, I made my way down the corridor towards the guest room I was staying in, passing the elder Winchester's room on the way. His door was ajar, but I knew he'd still be sleeping. I'd heard the sound of him sipping on a glass of whisky until the early hours of the morning. He'd be out for another hour or so.

A smirk pulled at my lips and I silently pushed his door open and wandered in. It was unlikely that he kept my daylight ring on him at all times, but I'd looked for it everywhere else I could think of.

The beam of light cutting into the room from the open door illuminated the man's features as he lay sprawled on his back, the covers covering half of his bare torso. I took a moment as my eyes roamed his broad chest, his muscles straining under his skin as he breathed in and out. Don't get me wrong, I despised Dean Winchester with every fibre of my being. He was moody, rude and categorically hated my guts. But that didn't mean I didn't enjoy looking at him.

As I silently approached, I found my gaze honing in on his chiselled jaw and perfect cheek bones. I could hear the steady thud of his heart, the sound of his blood rushing though his arteries making my mouth water, though his blood wasn't the only thing I craved. I may have been a vampire, but I was still a girl. The man was bloody beautiful, as was his younger brother. I wouldn't complain if I ever had the fortune of finding myself as the filling of a delicious Winchester sandwich.

I cursed myself for even thinking it. _Who did I think I was? Katherine Pierce?_ No way. I grimaced at the thought of doing something that remotely imitated the psychotic bitch I'd had the misfortune of running into too many times. I shook my head, clearing my thoughts as I stepped closer to the bed. _Where would he keep it? Perhaps in a pocket?_

I carefully pulled back the sheets that covered him, my keen eyes focused on his grey sweatpants as I reached a finger inside his pocket. Within a moment, my back hit the floor, a warm body pinning me to the ground as something sharp was pressed against my chest. The elder Winchester's heart hammered in his rib cage, his teeth gritted together as he breathed heavily.

"Dean, if you wanted to be on top, all you had to do was ask," I told him with a wicked smirk, keeping an eye on the wooden stake that he was pressing into my skin. He grimaced at the mere suggestion that he could ever want me in _that_ way.

"You shouldn't sneak up on a hunter," he warned and my smirk widened into a grin. I could do whatever the bloody hell I wanted. In less than a second I'd used my speed to push him off of me and had him pressed against his bedroom wall, the wooden stake discarded to the floor. My recent meal had left me buzzing and I was eager for some action. I needed to run. Staying in the bunker all day made me feel like a caged animal.

"You shouldn't think you're powerful enough to intimidate me," I replied calmly as if I hadn't just completely turned the tables on him. "I want my ring."

"And I want you dead," he replied. I smirked at him, removing one of my hands from his chest to run my fingers through his hair. I hadn't yet decided whether he was blonde or brunette. Maybe somewhere in the middle. Either way, it felt soft on my cool fingers and I lost myself for a moment.

"You don't mean that," I said, my eyes locking with his as I tried to pull him under my spell. I knew it wouldn't work. He'd been taking vervain every day since I moved into the bunker, much to my annoyance. Dean Winchester under the influence of compulsion was something I was dying to see.

"And why is that?" he asked, pretending not to be intimidated by how much stronger I was than him. His heart gave him away. It was beating erratically. It made me want to sink my teeth into his jugular.

"Because you like me," I said with a smile that I knew would get under his skin. "It's not your fault, Dean," I whispered, backing him further against the wall. "You can't help it. Everything about me is designed to draw you in."

"I don't like you," he said, shoving a hand against my shoulder to push me away. I resisted at first, but when he did it harder I removed my hands from his chest, glaring as he pushed past me. "I tolerate you. For Sam's sake." He flicked the light on and I winced, my eyes stinging at the brightness. "The moment Sam realises you're no different from any of the other monsters we hunt, I'm sending you straight to purgatory."

"You can't send me to purgatory, _dumbass,_ " I told him bitterly as he pulled a shirt over his head. I'd had my fun for the morning. He was _far_ more entertaining when he was asleep. "I'm not descended from Eve."

"Right, I forgot," he deadpanned. "You're an entirely different type of freak." I rolled my eyes, finding his sarcastic comments utterly trivial. I had better things I could be doing with my time. If only I had that damn ring.

"Just give me my ring and I'll be out of your hair," I asked, trying to sound as pleasant and polite as possible.

"I think I'd much rather leave you out in the sun without it and watch you burn," Dean spat, bending down to pick the stake from the floor and gripping it in his fist threateningly. "God, you have no idea how much I want to use this."

"Well you have no idea how much I want to rip your vocal chords from your throat, you mother fu-!"

"Guys!" I didn't have to turn to see that Sam had materialised in the doorway, his hands stretched out as he jumped between us. His right hand met Dean's chest and he pushed him back. Luckily for him, he didn't do the same to me. I would've snapped it right off. "Seriously, do we have to go through this every morning?"

"Come on, Sam, she started it," Dean said accusingly, sending me a glare which I returned, only harder.

"I don't care," Sam replied sternly. "I don't care if you hate each other. But you can't kill each other."

"I can try," I mouthed at the man opposite. Sam caught it out of the corner of his eye and sent me an unimpressed look.

"Cut it out, Rose," he chastised and I rolled my eyes, pushing past him and out of the room. "Hey, I'm not done!" he called after me. I didn't care. I certainly was.

"Go to hell," I snapped back, the fact that they'd both actually been to hell giving my comment more weight. I sauntered down the corridor back to the kitchen, grabbing another blood bag from the fridge as a midmorning snack, uncaring that I'd soon run out.

* * *

The week that followed dragged miserably until Sam popped out to the hospital for a quick supply run. The batch of blood bags included one labelled A-positive. Not my favourite but definitely better than what he'd given me before. When I questioned him on it he'd said it was a treat for good behaviour which made me almost laugh. I'd refrained from tormenting Dean as much as possible since the incident a week ago. Apparently, in Sam's eyes, that warranted a reward.

This, however, left me mind-numbingly bored. I wasn't allowed to leave the bunker under strict instructions from both the boys. They'd made it clear from the start that if I so much as breathed the same air as another human they'd have to put me down. I'd promised I wouldn't, but they didn't seem to take my word for it. If I was honest, I didn't blame them. I craved blood straight from the vein more than anything.

Sam often asked me why I didn't have more control over my urges. I told him I did. I'd perfected the snatch, eat, erase method over two hundred years ago, but then something had gone wrong. A few decades back I'd decided to flick the humanity switch, ditching all emotions and gorging myself on as many humans as I could. When I finally flicked it back on, a deep hunger within me came back with all the other crappy human feelings I'd been void of for so many years. I told Sam it would just take a while before I'd build up my tolerance again, but that didn't satisfy the younger Winchester. He'd taken it upon himself to help me control my urges, and apparently, that meant no feasting on humans, even if I didn't kill anyone.

I found the kid in the bunker's firing range. My enhanced hearing made the shots seem like they were going off inside my head. On physical appearance, I was probably ten years younger than him, but in reality, I was far his superior.

"Hey Sam," I greeted, causing the man to jump as I appeared silently next to him, the breeze my speed created ruffling his shirt. He didn't tell me off for it this time, simply releasing a sigh as he resumed his target practice.

"What do you want?" he asked, and I pouted at him, slightly hurt that he'd think I'd only talk to him when I wanted something, though he was entirely correct. I played it off, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right.

"Nothing," I replied nonchalantly, watching as he fired twice at the paper figure across the firing range. My excellent vision told me he'd hit the target both times. "You're pretty good at that." He chuckled slightly under his breath.

"Thanks," he replied, lowering the weapon as he squinted at the target. He proceeded to remove the clip from the gun and I watched closely as his deft hands moved against the metal. Sam had tried fruitlessly to try and teach me all the different makes and brands of weapon he and his brother used. I tended to zone out whenever he got all nerdy about stuff. Pretending to be interested was exhausting.

"I'm bored," I said flatly, arching my back and bracing my hands against the metal bench in front of me. Sam hummed in response, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. It was getting rather long, but somehow it suited him. I almost _liked_ it.

"You're always bored," he replied matter of factly, not turning towards me to reply. I listened to his heart beat closely like I always did. It was steady, unlike Dean's which was always erratic whenever I was around. But Sam wasn't stressed at all. He wasn't even remotely terrified by how close I was stood next to him. He may have been bigger, towering at least eight inches above me, but I was far stronger. He knew that, but yet he still didn't seem to fear me. I now had my new game: if I wasn't allowed to tantalize the elder Winchester, Sam would have to be my new target.

"We should do something," I suggested absentmindedly, shuffling a little closer to him as he reloaded his pistol. "Have you ever played murder in the dark?" I asked, locking eyes with the younger Winchester as I licked my smirking lips. "I'm really good at it." There it was. The oh so satisfying sound of his heart beat picking up. I grinned at him wickedly as I moved even closer.

"You know, you're kind of creepy," he commented, shooting me a weary look before stepping away from me. I watched him go, my grin deflating along with my mood as his heart returned to its steady speed.

"Some would say sociopathic," I replied as I glared at the back of his head, my tone flat and icy. He murmured a response that I didn't bother to listen to. I was too angry. Too riled up. We'd been playing house for too long. Now I needed some answers, but most of all, some entertainment.

I shot up beside him just as he turned around, though I was careful not to touch him this time. I wasn't playing games anymore. "Why do you keep me here, Sam?" I asked seriously, my eyes narrowing at the young hunter. I wasn't somebody's pet they could train.

"What do you mean?" he asked. I thought he was faking misunderstanding, but his eyes seemed genuinely confused.

"Is it information you're looking for? More knowledge about my species?" I guessed, watching his eyes carefully. He didn't give anything away. If anything, he only grew more confused. "We're barely friends," I said quietly, shaking my head. "I irritate you, we don't trust each other. Your brother detests me." And I hated him right back. Other than his divinely chiselled features, the only redeeming quality Dean Winchester possessed was his car. The '67 impala was definitely something to be envious of. If I ended up killing both of them in the near future, I'd definitely be nabbing the keys.

"Maybe I wanna help you," Sam said in an equally soft voice, only his lacked the hardness that mine always had. "Like you helped me."

"You don't owe me anything," I told him, shaking my head.

"I know," he said, his eyes so alarmingly kind that I almost had to look away. "But I know what it's like to crave blood. I've been through it." He paused, swallowing thickly. "I understand." I scoffed.

"You _don't_ understand," I snapped at him, quickly losing my temper, though I wasn't sure I ever had a handle on it anyway. "You were hooked on demon blood for what, a year? I've been hunting humans for over three hundred." He looked alarmed by my admission and took a step back. I was happy he did, but I didn't let my usual smirk pull at my lips. "You can't detox me. You can't make me better." I spat the words at him, watching as he gritted his teeth together. "There's no cure for what I am."

"You don't have to hurt people. Just let me help you," he said, almost pleadingly. I snapped.

"I don't want your help!" I yelled, stepping closer to intimidate him. "I'm not an addict, Sam. I'm a _vampire_." He needed to get it out of his head that I was a person who could be fixed. This wasn't a phase. This is who I was. "I'm a cold, heartless killer. I don't care about anyone or anything." I enunciated each word carefully, stepping closer with every syllable until I was close enough to practically see his carotid artery pulsating in his neck. He was nervous now. I could feel it.

"You saved my life," he said, his face stubborn as he refused to be intimidated, though I knew he already was. "You didn't kill me."

"I wanted to," I told him, my features schooled as I stared at him "I want to right now." His heart was hammering in his chest just like I'd wanted. He was afraid of me. That was how it should be.

"You won't."

"Why not?" I questioned. "It would be easy. I could snap your neck in a second." He took deep breaths as if to try and calm himself down. I didn't breathe at all. If I took even one breath and inhaled his scent when I was this close to him, it was lights out for Sammy.

"You won't kill me," he repeated. "You would've done it already weeks ago."

"The only thing stopping me is that ring your brother has," I told him bitterly. "If it weren't for that, I'd drain you dry in an instant. I wouldn't even bat an eyelid." Sam supressed a grimace as he shook his head. I knew I was getting to him and I couldn't help the sense of satisfaction that rolled over me at the sight of his distress.

"I don't buy it," he said, trying to sound convincing. "You give off this tough exterior to make people afraid of you, but underneath all that, there's just a lonely Italian girl." I stepped away from him, taken aback by what he'd said. I hadn't told him much of my past. I'd told him nothing of my human years.

"You don't know me, Sam," I told him, trying not to falter as I shook my head. "You don't know what I've done. You don't know what I will do."

"You can change," the younger Winchester insisted. His eyes stared into mine and I couldn't look away. It was as if _he_ was the one with the power of compulsion. "I know you want to. You wouldn't've stuck around this long if there wasn't a part of you that wants to be different. That wants to be good."

"I'm the devil," I whispered, my jaw tight. Sam shook his head.

"I've met the devil," he reminded me. "You don't even come close." He was so near to me now that I could feel his breath. It felt so warm on my cold skin that I wanted him ever closer. I'd never craved him so much until that moment. He raised his hand and for a moment, I thought he was going to stroke his thumb along my cheek. He changed his mind at the last minute, perhaps remembering who I was. _What_ I was.

"I'm no good, Sam," I said quietly before stepping away. I turned, taking maybe three steps before I heard the sound of a knife being unsheathed. The noise of the blade scrapping against the leather rang in my ears, intensified by my heightened senses. "What are you doing?" I asked the boy before me as he held the blade against his palm. "Sam…" It was too late. A small stream of blood had formed where the knife cut into his skin, the crimson substance bubbling at the open wound. I made the fatal mistake of breathing in, the intoxicating scent filling my nostrils and driving me crazy.

"It's okay," he said, taking a step forward. Fear flared in my gut and I rushed backwards, my back colliding with the wall.

"Don't come any closer," I panted as he made his way towards me. He didn't seem afraid at all. I wished I could've said the same about myself. There was literally nothing stopping me from killing him right then and there. I tried to search for a way out but all my mind could process was the blood dripping from Sam Winchester's hand. "Stop," I told him weakly. "Stop!" He wouldn't. He came closer until he was a foot away, standing over me as I cowered on the floor, trying to push myself into the wall and disappear.

My fangs descended, the whites of my eyes flooding red. I was hungry. Too hungry. I wanted it more than anything. I imagined the coppery taste of it as it slipped over my tongue and the rush I would feel from draining the life out of him.

"You're not gonna hurt me," Sam repeated, crouching down beside me. I flailed on the ground, trying to get away.

"There are smarter ways to prove a point," I spat, panic rising inside of me. And that's exactly what he'd done. He knew I'd never hurt him. He wasn't trying to prove it to himself. He was trying to prove it to me. It was all part of his plan to make me realise I _wasn't_ just a heartless killer.

"I knew you wouldn't," he told me. I stopped breathing and forced myself to look away from his hand. This time, Sam did grab my cheek, using his unwounded hand to pull my face back towards him. My teeth were gritted together and I felt my fangs pierce my bottom lip, my mouth filling with the bitter taste of my own blood. The worst part was that I _knew_ he wasn't on vervain. He wore the herb around his wrist to protect him from compulsion, but that wouldn't help him now.

"It's okay," he whispered. I held my breath, my eyes squeezing shut as I tried to block him out. The sound of his heart hammering against his ribcage was deafening. I felt his palm against my face. His touch was scorching on my cold skin. I was frozen still, my jaw clamped shut over my deadly fangs. "You're not gonna hurt me."

"You might not get so lucky next time," I forced out between my lips before pushing him away and sprinting from the firing range. I ran close to my full speed and I didn't stop until I was in my room, the door slammed shut with my back against the dark wood.

My breathing was rapid as I tried to focus on anything other than the younger Winchester's blood. What Sam had done was reckless and stupid, but I'd managed to resist the urge to rip into his skin and drain him dry. For now, Sam was safe. _For now_.

These Winchesters were going to be the death of me.

* * *

 **AN: Keep an eye out for the other two parts. Should be up pretty soon.**

 **Let me know what you thought, much love x**


	2. Chapter 2

It was settled: whisky was my new best friend. The gloriously alcoholic substance was the only thing in the world that never seemed to let me down. I could always count on it to give me exactly what I needed. At that particular time, what I needed was a distraction.

"Sam?" I heard Dean call his brother's name as he emerged at the kitchen door, his face visibly deflating when he spotted me sitting at the table, my feet crossed casually on the wooden surface. I hadn't spoken to the younger Winchester since the incident not even twenty-four hours ago. "You seen Sam?" Dean asked, the distaste in his voice more than a little obvious. My eyes flickered up to him, my sour mood taking a further turn for the worse.

"Nope," I replied unhelpfully. The elder Winchester hovered in the doorway, his jaw tight, eyes dark. "Probably blow drying his hair."

"You fall out with you friend or something?" Dean asked in his low voice, his tone giving off the impression that he really didn't care. It also screamed that he considered the fact that Sam wasn't sat at the kitchen table instead of me was my fault. I supposed it was.

"I don't have friends," I spat back at him, downing the rest of my glass of whisky and pouring another immediately. I glanced up at the hunter who was looking at me like he wasn't sure what to make of me, or how he should reply. Then his eyes focussed on the glass in my hand and he took a step forward into the room, his eyes narrowing.

"Is that my whisky?" he asked. My eyes slid from the bottle to him, then back to the bottle. Technically, I had found it in his room, but I rarely let such minor details stop me from getting what I wanted.

"It was," I replied, taking a swig from the bottle, not bothering with the glass anymore. It was just slowing me down. "Now it's mine." Dean took another step forward into the room, smoke practically puffing from his nostrils.

"Since when do vampires drink?" he asked through gritted teeth. I sighed boredly at his question.

"It helps with the cravings," I admitted, swirling the remaining liquor around in the bottom of the bottle. "But if it bothers you that much, I could always find something else to drink." My eyes flickered over to meet his and he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed down the fear I'd instilled in his veins.

"Yeah, ah- carry on," he stuttered like a child. I nodded to him in thanks, a satisfied smile pulling at my lips as I licked my teeth.

"That's what I thought," I mumbled, the words coming out dry. "Why're you looking for Sam?" Ordinarily, I couldn't've cared less what the elder Winchester was up to, but Sam and I weren't talking and I needed something to occupy my mind.

"None of your business," he snapped back at me.

"Geez, it's not like I asked about your dad." Dean's heart rate spiked and I knew I'd hit a nerve. Sam had told me to stop riling up his brother, but Sam wasn't here. The elder Winchester breathed heavily, his jaw tight. "What? No comeback?"

"Look," he began, furthering himself into the room whilst retaining a safe distance away from me. "I don't know what the hell was going through Sam's head when he decided to invite you in here, but here you are." It was another _no shit Sherlock_ moment, but I held my tongue.

"You don't trust your brother's judgement?" I asked with a quirked eyebrow. Dean's stare was intense. It was the least afraid I'd ever seen him, yet somehow the most.

"I trust him more than anyone," he assured me. "But he's been wrong about this kind of thing in the past." I sighed, rolling my eyes a little as I set the bottle of whisky down on the table in front of me.

"If you're talking about the demon Sam was fucking a while back, don't worry your pretty little head about it," I said evenly. "I'm nothing like her." Dean looked surprised by my words, his brow furrowing.

"You know about Ruby?"

"I read the books, dumbass," I informed him. "Missed out all the boring stuff though. Skipped straight to all the juicy details." An expression crossed his face that I couldn't explain. He almost seemed violated. Some of the chapters in those books had been _very_ juicy indeed. I liked watching him squirm. "I'm a vampire, Dean. Not a demon."

"You're a monster," he replied. "Same thing to me." I scoffed, his petty insult not affecting me in the slightest. I'd been called much worse in the past.

"If that's how you think, you're an idiot," I said, interlacing my fingers in my lap as I looked up at him. "Vampires are a very different breed to demons. My kind, anyway."

"How's that?" I huffed, knowing I'd have to explain the whole deal to him. He wasn't catching on quick enough for my liking, though that was probably because he didn't have as much experience with my kind of vampire.

"When Ruby screwed Sam over and he opened the gates of hell, she was working for someone, right?" Dean nodded, clearly a little uncomfortable due to the subject matter. "You wanna know who I work for? _No one._ I don't have some complicated agenda. I don't answer to anybody. I exist only for myself." He didn't look convinced and I pinched the bridge of my nose, growing more irritated than I already was. "The vampires you're used to hunting live in nests because they aren't as strong as my kind. They're too weak to be on their own. But not my kind."

"How do I know this isn't all a creation?" he asked. "How do I know you're not just biding your time whilst manipulating the both of us?"

"I'm a selfish creature, Dean," I explained. "Anything I do is for my own satisfaction. Manipulating you and Sam would be far too easy it wouldn't even be worth the effort." I hoped my words would have the degrading effect I desired. He smiled tightly, masking his irritation.

"Is that so?" he asked, his serious green stare holding a hint of mischief.

"Yep," I replied, popping the "p" with my red lips. He rolled his eyes, frowning once more at the empty whisky bottle on the table before making his way over to the fridge and pulling open the door. I watched him as he grimaced, clearly annoyed by something as he fished around inside.

"In future, can you not store your blood bags next to my beer?" Dean scolded, shooting me a glare.

"I will as soon as you stop cooking garlic bread for every other meal," I retorted bitterly.

"I thought garlic was just a myth," he mused with a small frown, his forehead creasing as he questioned me.

"Just because it can't hurt me, doesn't mean I can't smell it on your breath when you're breathing down my neck every second." Then elder Winchester sent me a glare which I returned bitterly. Suddenly, there was a rush of air that ruffled Dean's shirt. I felt it run down my spine. A man appeared in the doorway. He wore a tan trench coat, his blue gaze focused on the elder Winchester.

"Dean." His voice was low and I groaned, not in the mood for any angel antics. I was already outnumbered by Sam and Dean. I didn't want their third wheel hanging around for too long.

"It's about time," Dean said as he slammed the fridge door shut. "Don't you check your voice mails? Where have you been?"

"I was held up," the angel said, causing Dean to raise a brow questioningly. "It's not of import." I rolled my eyes at the two of them, shoving Dean out of the way a little too forcefully as I stood and wondered over to the fridge, in need of a snack.

"She's still here?" I heard the angel remark as I grabbed a bag of O-neg and began to drink it like it was a milkshake.

"Nice to see you again, Castiel," I replied sarcastically. He looked pointedly at Dean.

"I warned you and Sam about her kind," Cas reminded him. The angel seemed anxious. His shoulders were tense and his stance was awkward, though, from my limited experience with the angel, that was normal for him. "Vampires are not good company." I scoffed, finishing off my blood bag and grabbing another.

"I heard angels aren't too hot these days either," I replied, locking eyes with the angel and raising a brow at him challengingly. He didn't falter like a human would and I smirked, relishing in the power that radiated off of him. It was probably unwise to entice him in any way. He could probably end me with a snap of his fingers. I heard Dean huff in annoyance and I sighed. "I'll leave you two alone," I said, sending the elder Winchester a suggestive look as I passed him. He didn't seem remotely amused.

* * *

The shower was glorious. The feeling of the hot droplets of water bouncing off my cool skin did wonders for me and I soon seemed to forget about the Winchesters and their angel pet. It was strange. Every day I spent with them, I grew more irritated by them, but somehow more attached. The strong bond the brothers had with each other was undeniable and surprisingly fascinating to spectate. Castiel wasn't a boring addition to the bunker either. He was the only friend of Sam and Dean's that I'd encountered and the threesome did make an impressive team.

I turned off the shower and stepped out, making my way to my room and towelling myself down when I arrived. A knock came at the door and I groaned, wiping my hair to try and dry it a little more.

I sashayed to the door and pulled it open, one hand resting casually on my hip as the other steadied myself on the door frame. Dean Winchester stood wide-eyed before me as I shot him a wolfish grin. His gaze dropped from my face for a brief second, returning a moment later with a hard edge.

"Why'd you always have to answer the door naked?" he asked smoothly, his voice like butter. He didn't miss a beat as he made a point of looking me in the eye, though I could tell it was a real struggle for him. I arched a perfect brow in his direction.

"Why'd you always have to knock when I'm changing?" I retorted, my voice even smoother if that were possible. He smiled sarcastically back at me just as Sam turned around the corner. The younger Winchester had a shocked expression on his face as he stared at me before his gaze snapped away.

"Uh, Rose?" Sam said awkwardly, his eyes fixed on the wall next to him. I could see a bandage wrapped around one of his hands. My fangs pricked against my bottom lip. "You wanna put some clothes on?" He was sweating. I could feel the heat radiating off of him. His heart was beating erratically.

"Do _you_ want me to put some clothes on?" I asked flirtatiously, looking the younger Winchester up and down. He was bright red now and I smirked widely at him.

"Alright, enough," Dean said, clearly irritated. He obviously had something on his mind. I'd almost forgotten that _he'd_ been the one to seek me out in my room. That never happened. "Sammy, why don't you go take a cold shower? Okay?" This only proved to embarrass the boy further and he shuffled out of sight, his brain clearly frazzled by what had just unfolded.

"And you," Dean turned back from his brother towards me. "Get dressed."

"Why?" I asked, not particularly fond of the bossy tone me was using. He couldn't tell me what to do.

"Because I need your help with something," Dean replied with a heavy sigh. I gasped mockingly at him, my smirk widening.

"The great Dean Winchester needs help from little, old me?" It was clear how reluctant he was to ask for my help, but whatever it was, I knew it had to be important. He shook his head, jaw tight.

"Don't be a bitch about this," he said. I straightened up, folding my arms across my bare chest and leaning against the door frame.

"Fine," I agreed, watching the subtle movements of his facial features as I spoke. He was surprised that I'd said yes, and somewhat apprehensive. "What am I helping with?"

"You'll find out," Dean told me, turning on his heal and heading down the corridor. "Get dressed." I clicked my tongue as I watched him go before finally retreating to my room. I changed quickly and met him in the library, my interest having peaked the moment he said he needed my help. My reason for agreeing was only because I was bored, and not in any way because I thought he deserved my help. If I'd had anything better to do, I'd have told him to piss off.

"What's the deal, Winchester?" I asked as I entered the library, now fully clothed. "This better be worth my time."

"I need you to look at a body," Dean said as he pulled a coat around his shoulders. "Unusual cause of death. I want your opinion on it." I frowned, not having expected that to be what he wanted my help with, though I knew the likelihood was that he wanted information.

"Fine," I replied. "But if we're going now I'm gonna need my ring." Dean nodded, pulling something from his jacket pocket and tossing it over to me. I frowned when I didn't see the blue lapis stone shining up at me.

"What the hell is this?" I asked, examining the unfamiliar ring. It was a single silver band with intricate engravings that, when I looked closer, seemed to resemble binding symbols. "This is not my ring."

"It'll still protect you from the sun," Dean assured me evenly. "But it's bound to another and if they get more than say…thirty feet apart, they won't work." My expression remained blank, my stare hard.

"Let me guess, you've got the other one?" I asked severely. Dean smirked as he held up his right hand, an identical band around his index finger. "Would you look at that," I mused flatly. "It's like we're an old married couple. Castiel will be disappointed." He snorted dryly.

"Something to bear in mind before you think about taking off," Dean said. "Wouldn't wanna end up…" he paused, grimacing a little. "Well, you know how it works. Kinda like a dog on a leash, ain't it?" He looked nauseatingly pleased with himself.

"I'm more of a cat person," I replied flatly, the bitterness in my voice obnoxiously obvious. "Pretty clever of you," I congratulated him. "I'm almost impressed." He stared back at me, his features schooled. He wasn't giving anything away. I slipped the ring onto my finger, examining the engravings more closely. "And this writing is Enochian," I observed. "I guess that explains the appearance of your angel friend." Dean nodded, definitely pleased with himself and his magic rings he'd managed to forge from scratch.

"We should get going," he said, making his way towards the stairs leading up to the exit.

"Will Sam be joining us?" I asked as I followed behind him.

"Nah, Sammy's staying here," he replied.

"Huh," I mused, halting my movements. "So, how do I know you're not just gonna drive me out into the middle of nowhere and leave me for dead?" I asked, admiring my new piece of jewellery that sat on my middle finger. There was nothing stopping Dean from kicking me out of the car and leaving me to burn in the sunlight.

"I guess you're just gonna have to trust me." I shot him the single most unimpressed look I could muster. I didn't trust anyone, least of all a hunter who hated my guts. But I hadn't left the bunker in weeks and I craved a little freedom. I followed him up the stairs, pausing when he'd opened the door to the outside world. The sun was bright, streaming through the trees across the road. I tentatively put a hand out first, a small smile gracing my lips when I felt the gentle warmth of the sun's rays on my cool skin. The ring worked, and I stepped out into the light.

* * *

"You know, when you said you wanted me to look at a body, I thought you meant a human," I said as I stared down at the desiccated remains of the vampire. Dark veins covered his entire body, creeping up his arms and climbing over the contours of his face.

"So, it _is_ a vampire?" Dean clarified. Although I wasn't particularly happy to spend the day with the elder Winchester, right now, I was grateful for his presence. His delicious scent helped to mask the fowl, unappetising stench of death and formaldehyde that filled the morgue air. My eyes slid to him from the dead monster.

"You never seen one of my kind dead before?"

"Only once," he replied. "Can you tell me how this one died?" My eyes narrowed at the body as I scrutinised it. "There were no wooden bullets," Dean informed me. "No stake to the heart. How else can you kill a vampire?"

"I'm not sure I wanna answer that," I replied as I examined the body. I caught Dean roll his eyes out of the corner of my vision. "I mean, desiccation can happen like this if we don't feed, but this guy's definitely dead."

"You mean a vampire can desiccate like this and still be alive?" he asked incredulously. I nodded, a grim expression on my face. He laughed a little, the sound dry. "Boy, that can't be fun."

"I hear the pain is unimaginable," I shot back, pinning him in place with my glare. "First, it's the hunger. Drive's most of us insane. All you can think about is what you'd give for just one drop of blood." Dean swallowed thickly as I spoke, my stare penetrating right through his soul. "And just when you think you're already in hell, your body starts to dry out, and your veins start rubbing together like sandpaper. An old friend of mine told me the agony is so bad, you can't even move." The elder Winchester didn't say a thing. I broke eye contact and went back to examining the body, my hands ghosting over the dark veins.

"There," I said, pointing to an area of much darker and more prominent veins on the vampire's left arm. They seemed to radiate from one specific spot where the bruising was more intense. "Track mark," I muttered. "He was poisoned." Dean was next to me now and I could smell his cologne. _Bloody hell_ did the man look good in a suit.

"Vervain?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Something else," I replied thoughtfully. "Werewolf venom, most likely." Dean frowned, clearly a little confused. "Toxic to my kind, didn't you know?" He looked irritated by this, but still a little concerned. "Whoever it was knew exactly what they were doing. The whole 'a werewolf bite can kill a vampire' isn't a well-known fact among ordinary hunters. You and Sammy have got some pretty hardcore vampire hunters on your doorstep."

"Does that scare you?" he asked with a small smirk. It really should've, but I wasn't one to let hunters frighten me. That much was obvious.

"It should scare you," I replied. Dean shot me a quizzical look. "Going on the vampire hunters I've met, they're not particularly nice people. And human or not, they'll kill anyone who gets in their way."

"You know, you're making the sound of turning you over to them sound really appealing," Dean said, his hands thrown loosely in his pocket. It would've been easy to end him right then and there for threatening me like that, but I decided against it.

"I doubt they're here for me," I said, meaning every word. "There've barely been any deaths blamed on animal attacks in this town for the last few months. It wouldn't be worth it to come all this way just for me." Dean considered what I'd said for a moment and after, he seemed to agree.

"Then why are they here?" he asked.

"Good question." My eyes glanced from the vampire's body back to the elder Winchester before me. "Maybe it's something else they're after."

* * *

The best part of the day I spent with Dean Winchester was undoubtedly the time I spent in the passenger seat of his Impala. Although, at first, he'd chastised me for putting my feet up on the dash, he seemed to relax into his spot behind the wheel, which meant I could relax too. Furthermore, he liked to play his music loud, meaning the wet sound of his heart hammering against his rib cage wasn't ringing in my ears for the entire drive.

The Impala was a beautiful creature. She purred like a cat whenever Dean twisted the keys in the ignition, and when his foot hit the floor, she ran like a panther. I smiled to myself as I leaned against the soft leather seats, watching as the world whizzed by. _Yes,_ I thought. _I could get used to this._

"Thanks for the help." Dean's gruff voice floated across the car. I looked over at him, my eyes narrowing a little as I scrutinised his expression. His were fixed on the road ahead, a sort of pained look in them. That must've been from having to thank me for my assistance. I shrugged.

"Not like I had anything better to do," I replied, a little sulkily. The hunter snorted once in slight amusement. It also wasn't like I did very much in the first place. I'd offered to compel the receptionist to let us see the body, but Dean had insisted on using his fake F.B.I badge to get into the morgue.

"You know, I could've told you what killed that vampire from a photograph," I informed him. "Would've been far less risky for both of us." His expression remained nonchalant as he glanced from the road to me, then back to the road. "But you knew that already." He sighed, his expression softening a little.

"I needed to see what you'd do," Dean admitted.

"You needed to see if I'd run," I corrected for him. He glanced at me again, holding my gaze for a little longer. "So, this was a test?"

"Call it that if you want," he replied. I thought for a moment.

"Did I pass?" He paused for a long time before replying.

"We're not home yet." I smirked a little at that. What did he expect me to do? Cut off his ringed finger and throw him out of the car? To be fair, that did sound like something I would do, but he didn't know that. Or perhaps he did…

We fell back into a not uncomfortable silence, Blaze of Glory drifting through the air. I liked the song, and I didn't realise I was mouthing the words until Dean called me out on it.

"You like Bon Jovi?" he asked, seemingly a little surprised. _What?_ Just because I was a vampire, did that mean I couldn't appreciate good music?

"Went to their first ever show," I told him.

"Really?" I inclined my head in agreement.

"Maddison Square Garden, 1983," I recalled somewhat wistfully. "What a decade that was." I looked over towards the hunter to see a content smile on his face as he drove. He seemed even more relaxed if that were possible, and I realised how much more likeable he was as a person when he wasn't either being ludicrously uptight or a pain in my ass.

"Crap," Dean muttered suddenly and my eyes snapped to him. He was glancing at something in the mirror and I turned to see a cop car out of the back windshield. They were pulling us over. I groaned. "Don't do anything stupid," he told me as he pulled up on the side of the road. I would've been pissed at him for it, but the timing wouldn't've been very helpful. Dean pulled down the window and waited for the cop to approach.

"Problem, officer?" he asked and I rolled my eyes at his light tone of voice.

"License and registration," the cop demanded, his eyes shielded by the dark sunglasses he wore. Dean handed over what I could only assume was a fake driver's license. "Step out of the car for me?" Dean huffed, catching my eyes for a second as he swung the door open. It was obvious that he was annoyed about the delay.

"I wasn't speeding," Dean told the officer as he slammed the door shut. "What's this about?" I could hear three heartbeats, and I figured there must've been another officer behind us.

"That your girl in the car?" the officer asked, ignoring Dean's question as he looked through the papers.

"My brother's, actually," Dean replied and I couldn't help but roll my eyes. The officer released a breath of laughter.

"You son-of-a-bitch," he laughed again. "Can't say I blame you." Dean didn't bother to correct his inaccurate interpretation of the situation.

"You wanna tell me what this is about?" the elder Winchester asked again and I could tell he was becoming agitated at the officer. He wasn't being polite anymore.

"Tail light's out," the officer said. I frowned before the sound of smashing glass filled my ears. The other officer must've put his nightstick through it.

"Hey!" I heard Dean yell. I was all but ready to get out of the car and nail those two motherfuckers, but I couldn't predict how Dean would react. As soon as I heard the other blinker go and the sound of Dean's body being slammed against the bonnet, however, I couldn't've cared less. Although I didn't particularly like the hunter, I definitely preferred him to the two officers.

I was out of the car in less than a second, my hand grasped around the first officer's throat. I squeezed just enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to kill. He squirmed in my grasp and I smirked, ripping off his sunglasses so I could see the fear in his eyes.

"You're going to forget this ever happened, get into your car and drive away," I told him, my eyes pulling him deep under my spell. He repeated the words back to me in a hypnotic voice, his pupils dilating as I controlled his mind. "And you're gonna tell your boss that you daydream about fucking his wife," I added as an afterthought, smiling gleefully to myself as I set him down and he walked away.

I scanned the road, my eyes falling on the other officer who had climbed into the cop car and was frantically trying to start the engine, his shaking fingers fumbling with the keys. I raced over to him and pulled him from the car, slamming him against it.

"Give me your wallet," I told him, and whether he did it because I compelled him or just because I asked so nicely, I'll never know. I pulled out what cash was there. It probably wasn't enough to cover the cost of new lights for Dean, but at least it was something. I stared into his eyes, pulling him in as I spoke. "Forget this ever happened and quit being a dick."

"I'll forget this ever happened," he repeated and I smiled widely back at him.

"Good boy," I said, shoving him back inside his car before they pulled away.

Dean was staring at me as I sauntered over, an unreadable expression on his face. I handed him the cash which he took without a word, his eyes still stunned.

"You alright?" I asked, eyeing where his right hand now held his left wrist tightly. He must've sprained it or something when the officer shoved him against the car.

"Fine," he nodded back, a little bewildered.

"You probably shouldn't tell Sam about this," I told him, my eyes slightly pleading. He winced before nodding back.

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," he replied. For a long moment, I wasn't sure if he was mad at me for using compulsion on the two officers. "Nice touch with the wife." I smirked at him, and although I wasn't sure if he was serious, I shot him a cheeky wink.

"I have been doing this for over three hundred years."

* * *

Dean sighed a little in relief when we made it back to the bunker, pulling his coat and suit jacket off and throwing them on the library table. It was strange being back there, but somehow, I felt comfort from it. It seemed _normal_ which, conversely, was so extraordinarily abnormal that I didn't know how to feel. All this back and forth along with my heightened emotions was giving me whiplash.

But something had been different with the elder Winchester today. We'd… gotten along. I stared at him for a moment, his muscles strained against his white shirt as he removed his tie. He looked strangely domesticated as he did it and it almost made me smile. I frowned as he winced a little as he brought the tie over his neck. His wrist was still bothering him.

"Dean?" He glanced up and I brought my hand to my mouth, letting my fangs slide free as I bit into my own skin. The blood pooled there for a moment and I held my arm out to him. The elder Winchester looked confused for a second and I rolled my eyes a little. "I can put it in a beer bottle if it'll make it easier." Dean's frown dropped as mine deepened. He looked somewhat repulsed.

"I ain't drinking your blood," he said evenly like the idea of it made it sick to his stomach. I shot him an incredulous look.

"But it'll heal you," I told him, not quite understanding his reservations.

"I'd rather die." I was a little taken aback by his abruptness and I couldn't understand why, but his words stung. I hated that they stung. I schooled my features, my eyes growing hard as my hand healed up.

"You know, something told me I'd be an idiot to let my guard down around you," I said, keeping my voice clear and harsh. I was a master at hiding what I really felt, and I supposed that Dean was too. "I guess I just forgot that you're a hunter." He stared back at me, something resembling a snarl on his face. I could see the hatred in his eyes as looked at me. I don't know why it surprised me. Maybe because I'd been denying it all day.

"I haven't forgotten what you are," Dean replied. I breathed a laugh through my nose as I shook my head, breaking eye contact and looking down at my hands. The sound was bitter, and he knew it. I saw the ring he'd given me wrapped around my finger and I pulled it off, tossing it across the room to him in one swift motion. He caught it effortlessly.

"Thanks for the reminder," I told him darkly, speeding through the air to get back to my room. I stood completely still for a moment, unable to move as my mind raced. A sudden ruffle of feathers behind me brought me from my thoughts.

"What do you want, Castiel?" I asked in a low voice as I turned. The angel stood before me with a blank expression. I wondered if he was here to kill me.

"Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it," he said, his piercing blue eyes staring deep within me.

"Are you quoting Mary Shelley to me?" I asked, irritated by his sudden appearance. At least I wasn't _naked._ He didn't reply. In fact, he didn't do anything but stare. It was like he was trying to read my mind. Perhaps he could.

"I saw what you did," he said after a while.

"I've done a lot of things, Castiel," I replied. "You're going to have to be a little more specific."

"I saw you offer Dean your blood." The angel didn't look mad about it, but he didn't appear to be overjoyed by it either. That was the thing about angels - they were a nightmare to read.

"Yeah, so?" I asked boredly.

"He refused it," Cas reminded me. "It made you feel rejected. Unwanted."

"Satan has his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary…" I recalled, trying to speak in a language he might understand.

"And detested," he added with a small incline of his head. I gritted my teeth together, a tight smile on my lips.

"Exactly." He held my gaze for a moment before it shifted to my room. He glanced at all the edges, scanning the corners and the planes of the walls.

"You wish to leave this place?" the angel asked. I was taken aback by his question, but I nodded all the same.

"Yes," I replied.

"Why don't you?" I frowned at his question. _Wasn't it obvious?_

"Dean has my ring," I told him tentatively. He shook his head at me.

"If you really desired to leave, you would've found it by now," said Castiel. Now it was my turn to shake my head. This angel was really starting to piss me off.

"There's no way I'd still be shacked up with two hunters if I could leave," I spat at him. "No way whatsoever."

"So, if you had your ring now, you'd leave?" he asked.

"I wouldn't look back," I told him. Castiel seemed to smile a little before he snapped his fingers. I felt a weight on my right ring finger and I looked down to see a bright lapis lazuli stone shining up at me. I'd felt naked without it, but now it was back where it belonged, I wasn't sure how I felt.

"I think that gives you what you need," the angel said. I looked up at him, catching his blue orbs in mine.

"You really don't like me, do you?" I observed. He didn't reply, but his stare seemed to intensify as he looked through the walls of my eyes and into my soul. "Is what I am really that bad?" I asked desperately, my voice raised. "I know what you did when you tried to be God. How is that any better?"

"I'm not concerned with what you've done," Castiel said calmly, a stark contrast to how I was feeling right then. "I'm concerned with what you may do." It all made sense.

"You think I'm gonna hurt Sam and Dean," I guessed. Castiel had a grave look on his face. It was almost as if he was apologetic for what he was doing. "I would never hurt them."

"Not intentionally," Castiel said. "I'm not asking you to leave, Rosalie." He paused, his eyes serious. "I'm simply giving you the option if you so wish to take it." It was strange being in the presence of someone so much older than me. That rarely ever happened. "The decision is yours, but understand that a decision to stay is not a wise one." It was a silent threat which came through loud and clear. He wanted me gone, for Sam and Dean's sake. We both knew that the longer I was around them the more at risk they were. I was a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. The angel turned to leave, but I called him back before he could vaporise into thin air.

"I care about them," I admitted. He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn around. "I don't want to, but I do. I don't know how to stop." That was a lie. I knew exactly how to stop. All I had to do was flick the little switch deep inside of me that would shut off any human emotions I was feeling. Was it worth it? Castiel didn't say a thing, probably because he knew I wasn't finished. In another life, I thought that he might've made a good friend. In another life..."I guess they just make me more human," I said. "You can understand that, can't you, Castiel?" He turned his head a little to look over his shoulder.

"More than you know." Then, he was gone.

I left after Dean's heartbeat slowed to the steady rate of sleep. Sam had dozed off maybe three hours before his brother. I didn't have many things with me, so I didn't need to pack much. I drunk the rest of the blood bags that were in the fridge, figuring I'd pick up a snack on the way to wherever the hell it was I was going. Maybe New Orleans? I heard vampires have it pretty good down there.

The night air was cold, but it didn't bother me one bit. I'd spent roughly two months in that bunker, and although that was only a miniscule percentage of my entire existence, I couldn't deny the rush I felt at finally being free.

* * *

 **AN: That was part 2! Thanks for reading.**

 **Little disclaimer: the two quotes at the end there were from _Frankenstein_ by Mary Shelley.**

 **Keep a look out for part 3. I've written 2 possible endings so just need to decided which one to go for... If you'd like to read both, let me know.**

 **Let me know what you thought, much love x**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: 3rd and final part of this little story!**

 **WARNING: This chapter contains violence and other darker themes. This story is rated M.**

 **Enjoy :)**

* * *

I was hungry.

My fangs itched to sink into the flesh of a human and my throat burned. I watched the man across the street carefully. My eyesight was so good that I could make out the particles of smoke that puffed from his nose as he smoked his cigarette. I could even read the fine calligraphy of a tattoo that poked out from under his jacket sleeve. _Peace_ , it read. _How ironic._ This guy's night was going to be anything but peaceful.

He dropped the cigarette to the ground when he'd finished, snuffing out the small orange glow with the heel of his shoe. The movement was slick. Practiced. I followed him into the bar.

It was busy inside, but I located him straight away. He'd slipped into a booth opposite another man who slid him a pint of beer across the table. They began to chat, both grinning at each other like they were old friends catching up, though it didn't seem like any time had passed at all.

 _Fuck._ There was no way I could drag this guy out into the alley behind the bar now. I'd thought he was alone at first, but now I knew he had someone. Someone who'd miss him. Maybe even a brother… I cursed myself for becoming all slushy in my old age, but maybe my reservations to rip into a random stranger's neck had come from my recent stay with the Winchesters. Their morality was like a disease. It seemed like I might've caught it. The thought made me want to vomit.

I sulkily sank into a bar stool and ordered myself a drink. Bourbon. Neat. That was the only thing that would get me through the night. I necked it as soon as it arrived and slid the tumbler back to the barman. He raised a brow at me. I caught his blue stare in mine.

"You're going to serve me drinks all night and you're not gonna ask me to pay," I compelled him smoothly. His pupils dilated for a moment before he blinked, looking a little disorientated for a moment before he poured me another drink. I smiled to myself.

The evening dragged by in a similar way. The more I drank, the more the sound of heartbeats were drowned out into background noise. It wasn't until I received my fourteenth drink that I acknowledged the existence of the bartender again. I was about to take a sip when I frowned, my eyes going dark.

"What the hell is this?" I asked, pointing to the drink in my hand. "I said neat, as in _no ice_." He looked frightened for a moment and I sighed, looking back into my glass at the two ice cubes swirling around in the alcohol.

"Actually, that drink is from that guy over there," the bartender said, pointing further down the bar. Roughly three stools down from me, a man sat with his elbows resting on the bar. I caught his eye a moment and he smiled. It was charming, but I doubted I would be draining him of all his blood tonight. I _definitely_ wouldn't be hooking up with him. He looked a little old for my taste, but then again, who was I to talk? He picked his drink from the counter and raised it towards me. I copied his movements, taking a sip of the drink he'd bought me.

It tasted like scotch, but there was a bitter edge to it. I frowned at the glass. At first, I thought it was vervain, and a fiery dread settled in my stomach. I swallowed it down, but it didn't burn my throat. _Definitely not vervain._ It was something else.

Then it hit me. _Rohypnol._ I'd tasted it before. Getting your drink spiked wasn't an infrequent occurrence when you looked like me and spent most nights drinking alone at a bar. I smiled a little to myself, a sick, calculating smile. This changed things. The first guy I'd set my eyes on had a friend, but _this_ guy was something else. A completely different kind of monster. I'd have no reservations whatsoever ripping him apart. I just had to bide my time. I was a vampire. Rohypnol wouldn't work on me, but he didn't know that.

I tried to play the part, acting a little drunker than I should've been. Not before long he was escorting me from the bar, his hand on waist to keep me from falling over. I wasn't sure where he was planning on taking me, but I somehow managed to direct his movements towards an alley behind the bar.

Without warning, I pushed him up against the wall, both my hands on his chest as I smiled wolfishly at him. He seemed surprised by my advances. I guess he thought _he'd_ be the one taking the reins tonight. _Boy, was he in for a shock._ He smiled a little at me and, up close, I realised it was really more creepy than charming. _Maybe I should just kill him_ , I thought to myself. _I can find someone else to drink._ But then I remembered what I'd seen with Dean. There were hunters in town, and another body showing up would lead them straight to me, not to mention, I was pretty sure Sam and Dean were on my trail. I couldn't risk getting caught. The stakes were too high, pun most definitely _not_ intended.

I pushed away from him, giving him one last disgusted look before I strode away. He probably thought it was odd that I could keep myself upright, but it didn't bother me. It wasn't until I felt his hand on my wrist that I went back on my plan.

"Where're you going, baby?" he asked, his voice not at all slurred which in itself I found disturbing. I pushed him against the wall again, this time using my supernatural strength to hold him by the neck.

"You know, I was going to let you live," I snarled in his face. His eyes were full of terror and I smiled wickedly at him. "But now I'm hungry." Ordinarily, I would've compelled him not to scream, but tonight, I felt like hearing it. My fangs descended from my gums and I ripped into his neck, the blood pooling at my lips.

The first few gulps were glorious, but by the time I had the fourth one swallowed down, I knew something was wrong. My lips tingled and my throat burned. I pulled back, still holding onto his neck as I coughed. The man pushed me away and I didn't have the strength to fight back. I grasped at my throat, my legs collapsing beneath me as I fell to my knees.

"You know," he began, his voice smooth and commanding. I didn't know what was happening, and I tried to crawl away from him. "Vervain is more effective when injected straight into the blood stream." I coughed violently as I tried to stand. Fear coursed through my veins as he stood above me. "But isn't it so much more fun this way?"

I gasped for air, my internal organs screaming at me as the vervain worked its way through my system. This guy wasn't just a sleazy asshole. He was a hunter.

"I've gotta hand it to you, you played the part of damsel in distress very well," he complemented me. I glared up at him with all the strength I could muster. "But I play it better." Down the street, I could see two other guys approaching. Two other hunters. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for a wooden stake to the heart that never came. Instead, he bent down over me, a needle in his hand which I guessed wasn't filled with anything nice. He'd played me. He knew I wouldn't be able to resist draining him dry if he posed as some kind of woman-abducting creep.

"Sleep tight," he muttered as he forced the needle into my neck. I groaned as the vervain entered my system and I grew even weaker, my arms going numb as I collapsed against the tarmac.

* * *

I awoke to the mouth-watering scent of fresh blood filling my nostrils. My eyes flooded with blood as they snapped open, my fangs baring as I hissed at the man in front of me. The hunter held his crimson hand out in front of me as if he were dangling raw meet just out of reach of a crocodile. I snapped my jaws at him as I stared at the cut across his hand. The blood leaked out slowly and I strained against the ropes that held me to try to reach it.

"Animals," the hunter mused to one of his mates behind him. I could make out three more behind him lurking in the shadows. "That's what they are. They only run on basic instinct and hunger." He pulled his hand away and wrapped a Band-Aid around his injury. "They can't be taught," he continued. "That's why they must be destroyed."

"What is this, a fucking tutorial for newbie hunters?" I asked bitterly, scowling at the man before me. He was the same man I'd met in the bar, only now he looked far less sleazy and much more threatening. My wrists and ankles burned where the ropes bound me to the chair I was sitting in. I guessed they must've been soaked in vervain. My odds for survival weren't looking good.

"Harris," another man greeted soberly as he entered the room. "There was no sign of any others at the bar. She was alone." The hunter, Harris, nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Just as I thought," he muttered under his breath. "We hunt these kind of vampires not only because they are blood thirsty monsters," Harris began, gesturing to me now that he addressed the whole room. "But because they are cocky enough to think they can survive on their own." I scoffed at that, but I supposed he had a point. I was cocky, but so was the dumbass in front of me. Harris bent in front of me now, leaning over me legs so his face was inches from mine. "Your arrogance is what got you caught," he whispered. I snapped my jaws at him again, but he anticipated my move, jerking backwards to avoid my fangs. He chuckled at my feeble attempt to kill him.

"Can we just get this over with?" I asked harshly, my teeth gritted together. I knew he was going to kill me. I didn't want to listen to him anymore. "I find the sound of your voice infinitely irritating."

"No," the hunter said after a moment. "We're not gonna do that just yet." Harris looked thoughtful as he rounded on me once more. "We want information first."

"Let me guess," I began, my voice bored. "You're gonna torture me." It wasn't the first time I'd encountered hunters. I knew the drill all too well. Harris breathed a snort of dry laughter at my straight forward tone. He reached into a cloth bag that sat at his feet and pulled out a single leaf of what I could only assume was vervain. I clenched my jaw at the sight of it, knowing exactly what was coming.

"This will be far more painless if you cooperate," he said, dragging the leaf down the side of my face. I hissed as the vervain burnt my skin, my knuckles turning white as I gripped the arm rests.

"What information?" I spat out as he held the vervain against my neck. This guy was going to kill me whether I gave him what he wanted or not. The only question was how long it would be before he drove a stake through my heart.

"I want you to tell me everything you know about the Winchesters." My breathing hitched, but I feigned nonchalance as he pulled away and grabbed a handful of vervain from the bag.

"Never heard of them," I replied. I didn't know why this guy was asking about Sam and Dean, but I wasn't going to tell him anything until I knew exactly what he wanted with them. Harris smirked a little at my response before pulling a spray bottle filled with water out of his bag. I watched him dump the vervain into the bottle and shake it around. Although I hated what was coming, I admired his creativity.

"We know you spent the best part of two months at their secret underground bunker," Harris continued as he angled the spray in my direction. I shrugged my shoulders, trying to relax into the chair.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He sprayed the vervain water at me, the little droplets burning my skin as they ran down my arms. I felt a scream form in the back of my throat but I didn't want to give Harris the satisfaction. He sighed, gesturing for one of his men to come forward. The shorter, younger looking man held a file and Harris sifted through it.

"Rosalie D'Angelo," he read in a monotonal voice. "Turned 1692, Florence, Italy. You slaughtered your way through Europe before coming to The States a hundred years later." I glared at him angrily as I listened to him read out facts about my life which were all startlingly correct. "Sam and Dean Winchester, born to John and Mary," Harris continued, spewing out facts and dates that I didn't know where true. I somehow thought they had to be. "We know everything about them and we know everything about _you._ "

"If you know _everything,_ what do you need me for?" I asked bitterly.

"I want you to tell me where the Men of Letter's bunker is," he demanded. "I want you to tell me what defences it has and how to disarm them." His voice grew in intensity with each demand. "And then you're going to help us kill Sam and Dean." _What the fuck?_ This wasn't about vampire hunting at all.

"You want to take over the bunker?" I asked with a scoff. "That's what this is about?"

"I want information," Harris repeated. "There are things out there that not even your precious Winchesters know about." I cringed at how he referred to Sam and Dean as _mine._ They weren't mine. They never were. I was foolish to hope they ever would be. "That bunker holds the key to it all. I want it."

"Maybe you should just stick to vampires," I commented, trying to remain casual. "Don't wanna bite off more than you can chew." He chuckled and crouched down on my left side, pressing the head of the bottle into the skin of my neck. Some of the water remained there and I hissed in pain as it burnt through my layers of skin like acid.

"I think, Miss D'Angelo," he began, his lips brushing against my ear. "That you it would be wise of you to take your own advice." Harris' scent was overwhelming, even if he did stink of smoke and stale beer. The blood overpowered everything and I could feel the veins creeping up my cheeks. I was so hungry that I didn't know what to do with myself.

"I'm not telling you anything," I growled through gritted teeth, trying to force my fangs back into my gums. He was trying to break me, but I knew I couldn't let him. I may've only cared for half of the Winchester duo, but I wasn't a backstabbing bitch. Even Dean Winchester didn't deserve to die at the hands of the jackass before me. "You may as well kill me."

Harris pushed away from me and, for a moment, I thought he'd given up. However, a sly smirk pulled at his creased lips and he shook his head.

"I thought you'd say something like that," he responded. "But if you won't take us to the Winchesters, we'll have to bring the Winchesters here." I frowned. _Is that why he jumped me outside the bar? Did he think he could use me as bait?_

"Sam and Dean aren't that stupid," I shot back. "And if you think they care about me enough to risk their lives to save me, you're an even bigger idiot than I thought." The hunter smiled again and a sick feeling settled in my stomach. It wasn't to do with the hunger. It was fear. Fear that, somehow, Harris would still win.

"They won't be coming here to save you," he whispered under his breath. I could still hear him and he knew it. "They'll be coming here to kill you." My hands clenched on the armrests of the wooden chair.

"What do you mean?" I asked, though the answer was already starting to become clear.

"A trail of bodies drained of blood will lead them to this very place," Harris explained. "Bodies left by you. If Sam and Dean are on the lookout, which I'm sure they are, they'll see exactly what you've been up to since leaving the bunker." I shook my head, my eyes struggling to remain open as I tried to comprehend what Harris was saying.

"But I never…" I began, my brain slowly piecing things together. "I haven't killed anyone." He smiled a sick, deranged smile that could even make _my_ skin crawl.

"We know," he muttered before sending me a knowing look. I understood then.

" _You_ left the trail of bodies," I stated incredulously. " _You_ made them look like vampire attacks so Sam and Dean would think it was me." Ordinarily, I would've thought the plan brilliant. I was all for manipulation and blood shed when it was the right occasion, but this guy was human. More so, he was a hunter. Dean was right. People are crazy. It'd been a long time since I'd not felt like the monster in the room. The feeling was alarmingly unnerving.

"I've seen some things in my time but you're a real bastard," I said coldly. He almost seemed to take it as a compliment.

"My methods may be thought of as unorthodox," he began. I could see few of Harris' men shift uncomfortably in the shadows. "But they get results." I chuckled dryly at him.

"I bet they do." He seemed done with the conversation and I wasn't sure what that meant for me. "So, what? Are you just gonna wait for Sam and Dean to walk through the front door?" Harris didn't respond as he directed the rest of his team to take their positions. "You're not exactly the worst thing they've ever come up against."

"I think that's probably true," Harris replied. "But they're each other's weakness. I don't think it'll take much of hearing his little brother scream before Dean tells us what we need to know." Now _that_ got under my skin.

"You hurt Sam and I'll rip out your intestines and feed them to you, you piece of shit!" I screamed, pulling at the ropes as he turned away from me. "You even touch him and I'll kill everyone you ever met!"

"You were foolish to ever care for a human, Miss D'Angelo," Harris said, pulling a stake from a bag and using a knife to sharpen the end. "It will be your downfall." I hissed at him, the sound animalistic and rabid. My fangs were bared and my eyes were black as I strained against the ropes, my skin screaming. He pocketed his knife and took the stake in both hands before plunging it through my chest.

* * *

A familiar scent filled my nostrils as I came to. It was distant, but I recognised the glorious fragrance instantly.

"Rose?" Sam Winchester yelled from somewhere far away. My mind was so foggy that I was having trouble pinpointing his exact location. I groaned as I tried to move, my skin burning under the vervain ropes. "Rose, we know you're here."

He was downstairs. I could hear his brother's footsteps alongside his. Harris' plan had worked. They'd come to find me. To hunt me.

I needed to warn them.

"We know you're here, you bitch!" That was Dean. He was angry and I couldn't blame him. For all they knew, I'd been the cause of the trail of bodies that Harris and his men had left. I peeled my eyes open, my gaze meeting Harris who was pressed into the side of a pillar waiting to strike. The wooden stake was still buried in my chest. It scraped against my heart with every inhalation. If I tried to move, it'd kill me.

"Sam…" I croaked out, before coughing violently. I'd lost a lot of blood and I could feel my veins starting to dry out. The vervain wasn't doing me much good either. The younger Winchester didn't hear my voice. He didn't have supernatural hearing like I did. I tried again with the ropes, the need to get to the brothers before Harris did motivating me to get out of the chair.

The hunter was no longer pressed against the pillar. He'd moved, disappearing into the shadows.

"Ughh!" I screamed in frustration when the ropes didn't give under my vastly depleted strength. I felt pathetic. Utterly pathetic. Not only was I most likely going to die at the hands of a first-grade asshole, but I was actually willing to risk my own survival for two humans. The level I'd sunk to in the last few months was mortifying.

"Did you hear that?" Sam asked from bellow. His voice was hushed as he spoke to his brother. I doubted Harris could hear them, but I didn't know where the rest of his men had gone.

"I didn't hear anything," Dean replied gruffly. I heard the smooth click of him checking his weapon before he sighed. "Can we hurry this up? This place looks like it's about to come down." Dean was right. The barn Harris had chosen for his little ambush was pretty derelict and broken. There were holes in the wooden floorboards and I wouldn't've been surprised if someone ended up crashing through the ceiling of the ground floor.

I struggled harder against the ropes when I heard footsteps on the stairs. I knew Harris had at least five other men stationed inside the barn who no doubt had visuals on the Winchesters. My head was pounding and the pain in my chest was making it difficult for me to think. I tried to focus, but my vision was blurred. Black spots were appearing in my peripherals and before I could try to free myself again, I was pulled deeper into the grips of unconsciousness.

I could barely keep myself sat upright when I saw a figure approaching. I recognised his scent and my fangs descended, blood flooding my dead eyes as he bent down in front of me, the hunger I felt the only thing driving my actions.

"Woah, hey!" Sam warned, lurching backwards as I snapped my jaws at him. Guilt swelled in my empty stomach when I realised it was him.

"Sam…" I began, trying to focus on the boy before me. I could see his brother behind him. Dean was unsurprisingly keeping his distance, his weapon pointed right at my chest. He looked pissed, mixed with a hint of confusion.

"What the hell's going on?" Sam asked desperately, confusion and fear shining from his brown eyes. They had a strange depth to them that only came with age and experience. They contrasted starkly with his youthful face.

"Sam… you've gotta…" I groaned when he pulled at the wooden stake sticking out of my chest. It grazed my cardiac muscle and I gritted my teeth together, my breathing heavy from the pain and ravenous hunger. "You gotta get outta here." The younger Winchester ignored me as he stared at the stake, trying to work out how to pull it out without killing me.

"Sam, something's not right here," Dean said from across the room. I needed to warn them, but I was so weak. The words wouldn't form in my mouth.

"Go," I breathed heavily as Sam grabbed a hold of the stake and ripped It from my body. I screamed as he did it, my insides feeling like they'd been put through a blender. "It's… a trap."

"What?" Sam asked, coming closer to pull at the ropes that bound me. His close proximity was driving me crazy. I could feel his warmth. I could hear the blood pumping through his veins.

"Leave!" I yelled at him, my eyes turning dark red as I bared my fangs at him. He stumbled back, fear eclipsing his features as he caught a glimpse of my true face.

Then the room fell into complete chaos. Dean shouted to his brother as Harris came at him, the two confronting each other into a full-on fist fight as both their weapons were thrown across the room, bullets flying everywhere.

The younger Winchester quickly became preoccupied by two of Harris' men who seemed to appear out of nowhere. I writhed in the chair. Wet heart beats thumped in my ears. I was like a tiger who'd been starved for weeks, only to be presented with five tasty meals all at once. My senses were going into overdrive but I knew I had to keep it together. I couldn't let Harris win. Losing wasn't in my nature.

Sam managed to throw one of the men down and he landed, disorientated at my feet. I reacted quickly, toppling the chair that I was sitting in over. The arm broke as it collided with the floor and I managed to free one of my hands. I grabbed the hunter's neck and pulled him towards me. If he hadn't been momentarily concussed, he would've easily got away. But he was, and I was hungry.

It took all I had not to rip into his neck straight away. Harris had been on vervain and if anymore got into my system it wouldn't end well. I made a small cut in his neck using a piece of splintered wood and when the blood leaked out onto my hands and didn't burn my skin, I smiled devilishly to myself.

Then I ripped into his jugular.

The blood was glorious, accented by the starvation I'd felt before my meal. The hunter also happened to be B-negative and I found myself feeling slightly melancholy that I didn't have time to savour the moment. I hesitated a moment before draining him completely dry, my new conscious almost getting the better of me. But this guy was a hunter who'd helped kill numerous innocent people. He deserved it, and although the thought that Sam might be angry at me for it later did cross my mind, I didn't have the luxury of time to care about it.

I finished my meal and broke out of the chair in less than a second. It was easy now I'd had a decent dinner. Sam was still struggling with one of the other hunters and I used my speed to get to them fast, my hands grasping the man's head from behind before I snapped his neck.

Sam stared at me in shock. I felt like I should've felt guilty about taking a life so easily, but I didn't. It didn't bother me one bit. We held each other's gaze for a moment. I probably looked like something straight out of a Dracula movie, only far worse. I could feel the blood from the other hunter dripping from my lips and down my chin. I licked it up with my tongue, the taste of it unbelievable. I'd almost forgotten how much better blood tasted straight from a human.

I was sure Sam was horrified by my appearance, but the younger Winchester knew exactly what I was. He knew I was a monster. I killed anyone and everyone who dared to cross me. If that still bothered Sam, he needed to get over it quickly.

"There are more downstairs," I told him. He nodded, not waiting for me as ran to the ground floor. I took a breath, wiping the back of my hand across my chin. I caught sight of Dean and Harris brawling on the floor. The elder Winchester was stretching for his gun as he deflected punches from the hunter.

I was about to race over when the floorboards suddenly gave way beneath them and half of the first floor was gone.

"Dean!" I yelled after him as he and Harris slid down the boards and disappeared into a cloud of dust and wood shavings. I jumped down after them, landing on my feet easily as I tried to locate the pair. There was no sign of Harris, but I was alerted to Dean's whereabouts as he choked on the dust that filled the air.

He was trapped under a collapsed beam that appeared too heavy for him to lift himself. I raced over to him, relieved when seemed to not be about to die.

"Hold on a second," I told him as I wrapped my hand around the thick plank of wood and pulled it up. He crawled out from underneath on his hands and knees and I could see that he was in pain. He wasn't bleeding though – _thank god-_ so I assumed he'd be okay at least until this was all over.

"This really wasn't you?" Dean asked as he panted on the ground. I kicked him lightly in the ribs and he groaned, getting the message. "But you left?"

"I know," I replied. It was clear that neither of us really wanted to have this conversation and I was grateful when he said nothing further. I grabbed his hand and pulled his to his feet. He winced a little but was still able to stand by himself. I guessed he just had a few bruises and nothing was broken.

"On your right," Dean said suddenly, his voice serious. I winced as I felt something sharp embed itself in my back. It felt cold and metallic. I rolled my eyes. _Idiot_. I turned and grabbed the hunter by his neck. He was the short one and I pushed him up against the wall, my fingers pressing into his windpipe.

"Please! I didn't kill anyone!" he whined. I wasn't sure if I believed him, but I didn't really care. "Please, you don't wanna drink from me," he pleaded as my teeth traced his carotid artery. "I'm on vervain!" I paused, arching a brow at him. He obviously thought that little piece of information would save his life. Vervain meant I couldn't drink from him. It didn't mean I couldn't kill him.

I could feel Dean's eyes on me as I prepared to snap his neck, and something made me feel awkward about killing someone in front of him. The hunter I had in my grasp looked young. Early twenties at the most. He was a kid. Maybe he hadn't killed anyone…

I bashed his head against the wall, hard enough to knock him out but not enough to kill him. I figured I'd drain him of the vervain later and compel him. That way I wouldn't have to have his blood on my hands for the elder Winchester to see so clearly.

Dean was still eyeing me curiously when I turned around. His expression was unreadable, but it wasn't filled with the same hatred I usually saw whenever he looked at me. I shrugged at him, playing off my little act of mercy as nothing more than procrastination.

"Go find Sam," I instructed him, brushing down my shirt pointlessly. "I'll find the others." He nodded and quickly disappeared, trying his best not to limp on his bruised leg. I hoisted myself back up to the first floor, my keen eyes scouting the perimeter of the room. Apart from the creaking of floorboards, the whole barn was strangely quiet. I adjusted my hearing as I tried to make out individual heartbeats. There was one directly below me and stamped through the floor, crashing onto the ground below as I snapped the neck of the hunter.

It didn't take long for me to locate the others and have their bodies stacked in a neat pile on the floor. There were three others, all equally menacing and pathetic. Only one hadn't ingested vervain in the last few days and I sucked him dry until my body hummed with energy.

I felt no remorse whatsoever. I knew they'd all played a part in Harris' plan in leaving a trail of humans for Sam and Dean to find. They were each monsters in themselves, and although I knew that I was far worse by comparison, Sam and Dean were far better. It was better that all that blood was on my hands rather than theirs.

I could now only hear three heartbeats pounding in my ears and I knew exactly which hunter was left. I stalked through the barn, my eyes landing on Harris as he raised a gun in my direction. One of his arms was bent at an obscene angle and I knew that must've happened from when the roof collapsed.

I sped towards him, knocking him down as the gun went off. I pulled it from his hands and threw it away as I climbed on top of him. He grunted, clearly in pain as I slammed him against the ground. Not before long, my hand was buried in his chest, his heart in my hand. I didn't care that the vervain in his blood was burning my fingers. I wanted him to pay for what he'd done. I tossed his heart away once I'd ripped it out as if it was nothing, my mind now focused on how the hell we were going to clean up this mess.

And that's when I smelt it. _Blood._ So much blood. I couldn't tell immediately which one of them was bleeding. The scent was so intoxicating that it was impossible to focus on anything else. I zapped to the stairs, stopping dead in my tracks when I saw a worried looking Dean practically carrying his pale looking brother down the stairs. I hadn't noticed either of them go back up there.

"What happened?" I asked, holding my breath, although I could already feel my gums aching. There was so much blood. It was staining Sam's white t-shirt and covering both his hands that were pressed to the wound in his abdomen. Dean was covered in a lot of it too as he heaved Sam down the stairs whilst mumbling reassurance under his breath.

"He got shot." I waited for him to elaborate as they made it to the ground. "Harris got to him before I did." He must've run down right before I found him. Sam's eyes were struggling to stay open as his blood leaked everywhere. I took a step away from them.

"Dean, I…"

"Cas!" the elder Winchester yelled for his angel friend, no doubt praying he would show up and heal his brother. I kept moving back, my jaw clenched shut as the scent of Sam's blood filled my nostrils. I tried to focus on the time when Sam had cut his hand to test me. I'd been able to resist it then, but then it'd only been a little blood. Now, it was _everywhere._ "Come on, Sammy, stay with me," Dean begged as he lowered his brother to the ground. Sam slumped on his back as Dean held his hands against the wound. "Dammit Cas, where are you!" The pain in his voice made me want to vomit.

Sam was slipping away. I could see it before me. Dean knew it too. There was a stubborn panic in his eyes, but I could tell that he knew if Castiel didn't show up soon, his brother was going to die. Then his green orbs widened, and his gaze snapped to me.

"Help him," Dean breathed. I could tell he was reluctant to ask, but he was so desperate. It was clear I was his last resort. "I know you can. Please, help him."

"I can't," I told him quietly. If I took another step towards him I wouldn't be able to control my thirst. There was something about the blood that leaked out of Sam's stomach and all over Dean's hands that I found irresistible. I wouldn't be able to get near enough to help.

"Why the hell not?!" Dean yelled. "You offered it to me for a sprained wrist. Sammy's gonna die!"

"You didn't want it," I reminded him as I shook my head, my voice full of fear. "What if Sam feels the same way? You said you'd rather die."

"I don't care what I said!" Dean screamed at me. "I can't lose him." I backed away further, my fear too much for me to handle. I wanted to turn it off. I wanted to flick the switch so that I felt no human emotions. It would be easier to leave that way. It would be easier to run.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I turned away. I almost expected him to let me leave without much fuss, but this was Dean Winchester I was talking about.

"You bitch!" he yelled after me. "You screw with our lives for two months and you can't do us one favour?!" I kept walking, letting his words wash over me. "You're really gonna run away again?" I didn't stop. "Sam was wrong about you. He said there was some good still left, but he was wrong. There's no good. A good person wouldn't leave Sam to die!" I stopped in my tracks and turned around. Dean was right, I wasn't a good person.

But Sam was.

I sped towards them as I held my breath, sinking my fangs into my wrist on the way. Sam's eyes were shut when I arrived, but Dean's were wide as he fell back on his heels in shock. I placed a hand under Sam's head and gently lifted it to my wrist, letting his lips enclose around the open wound. I wasn't sure if vampire blood had the same addictive properties as demon blood did, but I hoped Sam wouldn't receive any unwanted side effects. I closed my eyes to try and block out his scent as he drank from me, and with every second that passed, my close proximity to him became easier and easier to handle.

After a few moments, I felt Sam squirm beneath me. I opened my eyes to see that his had snapped open and he was now staring up at me. We he realised what was happening, he choked and I moved my wrist away as he coughed on my blood. He was disorientated, which wasn't surprising, and I didn't stick around long enough for either of them to thank me.

* * *

I was in my room drying my hair when Sam Winchester barged through the door. I could feel the anger and confusion radiating off of him but I didn't turn around straight away. Instead, I held his gaze in the mirror, a brow quirked in his direction.

"What the hell's going on?" the hunter asked abruptly. He had this expression on his face that told me he'd been deeply wounded by something. Or someone. "I just talked to Dean and he-."

"I know," I replied calmly as if talking to a child in the middle of a temper tantrum. That's exactly what he was. A mere child compared to me. His frown deepened in understanding and he shook his head. I placed the hairdryer on the dresser and turned to face him.

"There's no way Dean would agree to that," Sam protested angrily. Desperately.

"Cas helped convince him it was the right thing," I replied. The younger Winchester's eyes narrowed at me like I'd offended him.

"Well he didn't convince _me_ ," he replied sternly. I rushed to him, my right hands pressing against his chest as the other rested on his shoulder.

"I guess I'll just have to," I told him, snapping off his vervain bracelet before shoving him against the opposite wall. I was careful not to hurt him. He was only human.

"Don't do this, Rose," Sam begged. He didn't try to push me away. Experience told him it would be futile. "Please, I don't want you to."

"Shhh," I whispered as I ran my fingers through his long, chocolaty hair. He fell silent and I knew it wasn't his decision. "You know it has to be this way." Sam shook his head, his eyes pleading. I could hardly bare to look at them.

My hands fell to his neck, my touch on his skin the gentlest it had ever been with a human. I pulled him down towards me, keeping my grip on him gentle. He could've pushed me away at any point, but he didn't. He didn't even flinch as my cold lips connected with his. They felt soft as I kissed them and he responded straight away, our mouths moulding together.

I pulled away before the kiss could deepen. His eyes were glistening, his pupils enormous with need. I wondered how different I was from the demon. She'd been in a human's body. Warm and soft. I was cold and hard. My skin was like marble.

I wasn't like Sam, no matter how hard he wanted to believe it. We were completely different. Through all the crap Sam had been through, underneath it all, he was good. His evils had come from the corruption of those around him, and though he wasn't entirely blameless, the disasters that had occurred weren't his own doing.

My evil was inherent. That was the difference.

"Listen to me, okay?" I asked him softly. He didn't respond, simply staring back at me as if he were a wounded animal. "I don't want you to ever think of me again. Forget everything you know about me." The words pained me, but I knew I had to do it. It was the only way to keep him and his brother safe. "I want you to forget that we ever met. Forget I was here with you. Forget that I ever meant anything to you." His eyes were glazed over. I ran my fingers through his hair, brushing the strands away from his forehead. "And if we ever bump into each other, you won't recognise me."

"I won't recognise you," Sam murmured back. And just like that, I was erased from Sam and Dean Winchester's minds and no longer existed.

* * *

I was crying when I woke in the middle of the night. The dream had felt so real, and that was probably because I hadn't had one in over three hundred years.

"How long have you been there?" I asked as I wiped the back of my hand over my glistening cheeks.

"Twenty-seven minutes," the angel replied as he sat upright on the end of the bed, his hands clasped in his lap. I scoffed at how precise he was, rolling out from under the covers and padding across the room to grab the bottle of whisky from the dresser. This one I'd compelled from a liquor store, rather than taking it from Dean's room. I took a long drink before slapping the bottle back down on the wood, perhaps a little harder than necessary.

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't get in my head whilst I'm sleeping," I asked, my jaw tight. "Seems a little unfair, don't you think?"

"I apologise for my methods," Castiel replied as he stood. His blue eyes told me that he was genuinely remorseful. I softened my hard stare. "I thought a dream was the best way to communicate with you."

"So, was that your way of telling me you want me to compel Sam and Dean to forget about me?" I asked calmly, my gaze challenging. His piecing stare softened for the first time ever around me.

"That dream came out of your head, not mine," he explained. "I merely showed your thoughts to you in a way you'd understand." In a strange way, the angel was making sense. I'd been thinking about leaving again ever since Sam had nearly died at the hands of the vampire hunters. That was nearly a week ago now. Things had seemed to go back to normal, but there was something else that underpinned all our actions now that we were living under the same roof again. I couldn't put my finger on it.

"You can read minds now?" Castiel didn't reply, he simply gave a look of confirmation. "That's great," I muttered. "What am I supposed to do now then?"

"I think it would be wise-."

"No!" I shouted at him. "No, don't you dare threaten me again. I did everything you wanted and Sam _still_ nearly died, so don't give me that crap about what I might do to hurt them because that ship has already sailed."

"You're angry," Castiel pointed out.

"Yeah, I'm angry," I replied. In fact, I was fuming to the point of not even caring that the angel in front of me could kill me at any moment. " _You're_ the one who asked me to leave, and I did. You have no right to-."

"That was a mistake." I blinked at him.

"What?"

"Asking you to leave," he said. "That was a mistake." I was so startled by his admission that I wasn't sure if he'd actually said it.

"Okay, well I'm glad we're on the same page for once," I said tentatively. I still wasn't sure what Castiel was doing in the bunker at this hour. Why had he shown me the dream? What was he trying to prove?

"I want what's best for Sam and Dean," the angel said. I'd almost forgotten that he was probably monitoring every thought that was running through my mind as I spoke to him.

"And you think that compelling them to forget me is what's best?" He frowned a little at my question as if I hadn't quite grasped what he was getting at. I hadn't yet understood what he was trying to make me realise.

"Do _you_?" And _then_ I got it. Sam and Dean were going to be in danger whether I stayed or not. That was inevitable due to the fact that they were hunters. The question was whether they wanted me to stay, regardless of the danger. The question was whether _I_ wanted to stay. The answer was easy.

Castiel seemed satisfied that I'd understood and he turned to leave. I watched the back of his trench coat as he walked to the door.

"Castiel?"

"Rosalie?" He looked over his shoulder and waited for my question.

"Can you read Dean's mind?" The angel smiled a little, perhaps because he anticipated my next question.

"Yes," he replied. I bit my lip.

"Does he still hate me?" He thought about it for a long time before he answered.

"Could Dean Winchester hate someone who saved his brother's life?" Castiel asked, catching my eye for a brief second before he disappeared.

I stayed up for a long time that night. I drank the entire bottle of whisky and when I still felt irritable, I found myself heading straight for the kitchen. After healing Sam almost a week ago, I hadn't hesitated in compelling the hunter I hadn't killed to forget everything he knew about the supernatural and told him to go back to college. The rest of the bodies didn't take long to bury in the woods. I'd almost taken off right then, but in the end, I'd headed back to the bunker, the need to check if Sam really was okay overwhelming.

I passed Dean's room on the way to the kitchen. His door was ajar as usual and I peered in to see him sleeping soundlessly, his heartbeat steady.

 _"_ _Does he still hate me?" Castiel thought about it for a long time before he answered._

 _"_ _Could Dean Winchester hate someone who saved his brother's life?"_

I smiled a little to myself as I watched him. He was still beautiful, but now it was more than that. He was more than just another human. Part of me wanted to stalk in and scare the shit out of him. I may have changed a little from my devilish ways, but I hadn't changed _that_ much. I decided against it after a moment. He needed to rest. I could torment him in the morning.

I pulled his door closed on the way out, blocking the corridor light from waking him. I didn't stop again until I'd pulled open the fridge and grabbed a blood bag, my fangs ready for my meal. Before I could start, however, I frowned at the bottle of milk sitting in the door. It was empty. I rolled my eyes. I was pretty sure Dean said he was picking some up on his way home from the bar last night, though it wouldn't bother him much if he woke in the morning to find he'd have to drink his coffee black. There was only one person in the bunker who I didn't think could do without.

I shoved the blood bag back into the fridge and headed out to the library, grabbing my coat and boots on the way. I was pretty sure there was a twenty-four-hour store around somewhere.

"Where're you going?" I gasped at the unexpected voice. I should've remembered that I hadn't heard Sam go to bed last night. I just didn't think he'd still be up.

"I was just heading out," I informed him. "We're outta milk." He frowned as he suppressed a gigantic yawn, his nose scrunching up as his eyes squinted together.

"You don't drink milk," he pointed out. I small smile tugged at my lips.

"I know I don't," I replied. A moment later he nodded in realisation, a breath of laughter escaping his lips. "Why don't you go to bed?" I suggested. He did look completely exhausted.

Sam nodded slowly, his eyes still locked on mine. I was still undecided as to whether it was selfish of me to stay, but the more time I spent at the bunker, the more the feeling went away. The younger Winchester took a tentative step forward. I honed my hearing in on his heartbeat which was erratic. He was nervous about something, and that made me anxious.

"Goodnight, Rose," Sam said softly, leaning towards me and pressing a kiss on my cheek. He lingered there a moment and I held my breath, still worried I might not be able to control my hunger. But as his heart began to calm down, so did my anxieties and I slowly took a breath.

"Goodnight, Sam," I whispered back to him. He pulled away, leaving me with a small smile and a profound sense of longing as he turned to wonder back to his bedroom.

These Winchesters were _definitely_ going to be the death of me.

* * *

 **AN: Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed this little story. Thinking about writing some other 3 parters so if that's something you wanna read, let me know.**

 **Also, I there's an alternate ending to this story which I will post if people want to read it. Leave a review to let me know if you want it :)**

 **Hope you liked this story. Let me know what you thought, much love x**


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